Long Way Home
by Defying Karma
Summary: 100 prompts, 100 drabbles, 100 days, 100 ways Hermione attempts to help the remaining Weasley twin move on from the death of his other half. Prompt One: Haunted.


**Hi, it's Def. My other fic got no reviews. *sigh* if you'd like to read it, feel free. It's called 'The Survivor's Lagniappe' and it's my first Potter fic. It's a future-fic, and pretty good. **

**Anyway, I'm here now. I'm going to be doing 100 George/Hermione oneshots. I think they may be connected, but not really. It'll be interconnected in the sense that, yes, they all relate with each other, but it's not really a multi-chapter fic with cliffhangers and all that. They're all individual oneshots, and I'm only hoping they're good.**

**I'm using prompts I got from someone's forum, by Googling 'Harry Potter fanfic prompts' and that was the first thing that came up. I don't have internet at the moment I'm writing this, which is why I can't go and search whoever came up with them.**

**Anyway, this is the first one. It's 'Haunted'. And yes, it's post-DH. (Though not by much)**

His hair was the first thing she noticed.

It was long, shaggy, and greasier than Snape's. The color had faded from a bright carrot-color to maybe a dull sunset. It hung in clumps past his closed eyes, only a little shorter than shoulder length.

But George didn't seem to care.

Then again, he _was _asleep, one arm slung over a pillow next to him and the other under curled under his head as a makeshift pillow. His face was relaxed, but his cheeks were sunken in and his whole body looked gaunt.

Hermione swallowed as she set down the bag of groceries Mrs. Weasley had made her bring over, despite her protests. ("Oh, no, Mrs. Weasley, I couldn't, really. Why don't you send Ron or Ginny I'm sure they'd much rather go then help clean up-" "Don't be silly, Hermione! He'll be thrilled to see you!") Carefully, she made her way through the piles of junk scattered throughout the room towards the bedside of the redheaded twin.

"George?" Her voice cracked, and she coughed and started again. "George? I've, er, brought some food for you. Or, it _will _be food, once I cook it."

George didn't stir, and Hermione couldn't be sure whether or not he was still asleep, or just faking. She swallowed and stared at the ceiling. _Of all the people in the world, in that _family,_ she makes me go help him. Go figure. _

Gently, she poked him on the shoulder. It was the only part of his bare upper-body (She could only pray it was only his upper body that wasn't wearing any clothes) that seemed innocent enough to be taken lightly. "George, please wake up. It's only me, just Hermione."

George's breath hitched and he shot up like a firework, his wand in his hand and his blue eyes blazing. Hermione let out a terrified squeak and tumbled backwards into a pile of books.

"It's only me!" Hermione gasped, struggling to get up off the pile of books that seemed hellbent on hurting her with their sharp corners. "George- s'only me! Just Hermione! Hermione Granger!"

George pointed his wand at Hermione, his eyes still furiously bright. "Why are you here?"

Finally getting a grip on the corner of George's bedside table, she hauled herself into a sitting position against the wall and pointed meekly at the bag of groceries. "Food! Your mum- she wanted me to come and make you something- check up on you!"

George lowered his wand and sunk back into the bed. "Well, I'm fine. You can go."

Where had the fury gone? Why was he suddenly so hopeless-looking? "I've got to make you something, otherwise your mum'll have my head on a platter."

"I can make my own food, thank you," George said, turning over so his back faced Hermione. "Just leave."

"I can't, George," Hermione muttered. Deciding it was safe to move, she stood up cautiously and picked her way through the mess of books, papers, toys, clothing, and little cardboard boxes full of things about which Hermione didn't want to know. "I promised I'd make you something to eat, and you're obviously not fine… No offense or anything, but-"

"Just _go, _Hermione!" George hissed, sounding nothing like the Weasley twin Hermione had known just six months ago. "Just… _go." _

She didn't like this new George. She missed the laughing, wise-cracking, interesting person who'd gotten on her very last nerve at Hogwarts. Though, _had _lost Fred only half a year ago. She didn't know what it was like, losing your best friend. Your other half. But it scared her, either way. A year ago, she'd never guess George would end up like this. Cold, distant, and giving up on life.

Then again, she'd never guess Fred would be dead, either.

Noticing her lack of answer, George sat up and turned to face her.

Hermione was petrified at the look in his eyes; all the fury and terror and hatred that had been focused on her just minutes ago was gone, replaced by a hauntingly empty blue gaze that was infinitely worse.

Without another word, Hermione turned and Disapparated, disappearing with a loud _crack _that rang throughout the now silent flat, the haunted blue gaze of George Weasley burned into her memory.


End file.
